


Toothbrush

by chele20035



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chele20035/pseuds/chele20035
Summary: After a painful break-up, Katniss and Peeta find their way back to one another.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 81





	Toothbrush

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Yes, I’m still here! 
> 
> Because of everything that’s going on in the world today, I know many of us are feeling, well off, to put it mildly. If that’s you, I just want to tell you that you are not alone. If all you can do some days is lay on the couch, read fanfic and eat popcorn, then you do what you have to. If you have to go several days without watching the news, or taking a social media break, read my little story, then take a break. Lol… but take care the ones in your life, and take care of you. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little drabble. I’ve been writing other stuff, so it was really nice to come back to these two and revisit. 
> 
> And a huge thank you to notanislander!!! 
> 
> I’m glad that they still like me.

“Damn it,” she swears as her keys hit the wooden porch with a thud. She tries to shift the groceries that weigh her down, but instead of the bag transitioning smoothly to her other hand, her wrist- the same one she broke and keeping her from the Olympics- cramps, making her drop the bag. 

“I don’t even want to look--” she moans before looking down. “Of course it had to be the bag with the eggs in it.”

Her exhale is loud as she sweeps the keys off the porch and opens the door with a click. It swings wide, welcoming her like it usually does. 

No sooner than she walks in, setting the remaining bags on the old table her grandfather built, her phone starts singing that stupid song her little sister programmed as her ringtone. “Of course, Prim is calling right now.” she almost doesn’t answer but then remembers, “Crap she finds out if she passed--” 

It takes her a moment to find the sound in her purse, but thankfully it’s still ringing when she does find it. “Hey! How did it go?”

“I passed! They just posted the grades! I’m glad that’s over, but now to get ready licensing--” Prim shouts into the phone. Katniss has to smile when she hears others celebrating in the background. “Let me call you back in a little bit. Uncle Haymitch wanted me to call him too.”

“Ok, call me back afterwhile. I’m going to do stuff.” 

“Bye Sis,” she answers and there is a click. Prim’s been gone for four years now, and a person would think that she’d be used to being alone by now. Blue eyes, the same color as a Carolina sky after a storm dances in her memory, making her close her eyes wanting things she can’t have… when she shakes her head trying to clear her thoughts. 

“Stop it, Katniss,” she whispers. “You have to go clean up the eggs, remember?” 

She’s looking down at her phone when she steps back outside to only run into a very solid wall. Cinnamon fills her nose, bringing tears to her eyes as she looks up. “Peeta?” she whispers. “What are you doing here?” 

In the month since they broke up, she knows that it feels like she’s been through hell. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, the only way she’s making it through work is because of the planning she did months ago for her students. 

She can’t look away and she doesn’t stop her hand from cupping his cheek. Dark circles surround his blue. He even looks pale, his summer tan from their trips to the lake long faded like their happiness. Her fingers find his waves, longer than the last time she caught a glimpse of him when she drove by the bakery a couple of weeks ago out of habit. 

She had to start driving home a different way so she wouldn’t be tempted to stop. 

His head turns into her palm as his eyes flutter shut. Those perfect lips of his brush her thumb sending a wave of need through her… “Peeta,” she breathes, afraid to disturb the delicate spell that is weaving itself around them. 

They step closer to each other, but when she hears the crinkle of the bag at their feet, reality comes rushing back. 

And they jump apart like they’ve been burned. 

“The eggs, I dropped the eggs when I was trying to unlock the door.” 

He bends and as gently as he picked up a kitten his friend Finnick had several months ago, he retrieves the eggs. He quickly unwraps the carton, and opens it. “Somehow, they all—” he pauses long enough to pick up a cracked one to show to her. “This one didn’t make it.”

They still as they look at the long crack. If it seperates, the egg would come apart in his hands, but the inner membrane must be holding the edges together, preventing yolk from coming out.

“Is that what we did to each other?” she mutters. 

Their eyes meet again, and it feels like her heart stops. A single tear escapes from her eye, and he’s blinking fast to stop what might be his. 

“Is that what you think?” his voice breaks when he finishes his question. 

“I know we hurt one another. Maybe deeper than we both want to admit.” She steps aside. “Would you like to come in? It’s ok if you don’t—”

His smile is small, not one of his usual happy ones that lights up a room, but it’s there. “I’d like that.”

Kpkpkp

He isn’t even sure why he’s here. For the first time since the breakup, he baked a perfect pan of cinnamon buns. Huge ones, as big as his head. What is the first thing he does? Tells his dad that he’s got to run an errand as he runs out the back door to jump in his Jeep. 

At first, he tries to talk himself out of going to the part of town she lives in. Then before he realizes, he’s pulling into her driveway. He was only going to leave them on her porch, but then he sees the grocery bag, and then her. Like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn’t step away if he tried. 

His stomach flips, his heart speeds up and he’d give away his part of the bakery if he could just—her palm is warm, the warmest thing he’s felt since he left that night, when she touches his cheek. 

He doesn’t want to think about how cold it’s been since he left that night. 

Just when she steps closer, the plastic bag crinkles at their feet. His Katniss steps just out of reach, and he just wants to follow her… he has to do something to keep from grabbing her so he picks up the carton. 

Only one is cracked, but if he can hurry and cook with it… “Somehow—” he says in an effort to fill the silence. 

Before he can tell her to fix something so it won’t go to waste, she mutters, “Is that what we did to each other?” 

“Is that what you think?” He asks as a single tear streaks down her cheek, making him blink fast so his doesn’t escape. 

“I know we hurt one another. Maybe deeper than we both want to admit.” She’s quiet but her face speaks volumes as several emotions he recognizes flit across her face. He wants to say something, anything, but just as he’s ready to talk, he hears, “Would you like to come in?”

Hope or something that feels like it tries to spring in his chest. He doesn’t want to give in to it, afraid of returning to the shell of who he was just weeks ago. his smile is small as he replies, “I’d like that.”

She sets what’s left of the eggs on the counter, and turns to him. He doesn’t give her a chance to talk. “I hate to waste this.” An idea makes him smile, and his heart jumps when she mirrors it. “Can I?”

“Can I help?” she whispers as she moves to the spot where she always stood when he was cooking in her kitchen. 

“Of course,” he answers. “You are always my favorite sous chef.” His heart clenches when her face falls and he has to look away. Opening the cabinet where she keeps the sugar and flour, he takes a deep breath where she can’t see. He grabs the flour and sugar, and can’t help but notice that it’s the same as he left it. 

He steals another glance, this time really looking at her. Her favorite shirt hangs off of her and her hair isn’t as shiny as it used to be. Her eyes have deep circles like she hasn’t been sleeping well.

Is she miserable too? 

“What are you making?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I learned a new recipe. Can I use about six of those eggs?” 

“Please.” She nods. “I’m not even sure why I bought them.”

“Let's see,” he says as he pulls her glass mixing bowl out. “If we make them into something beautiful.”

Kpkpkpkp

He makes it seem so effortless the way he measures with such confidence. And how does he know exactly when to stir and when it’s almost too much. It’s like watching dancers dance or even the wild horses run together at the beach when they went several months ago. 

Small talk seems pointless right now, and she isn’t entirely sure what to say without pouring out her heart and begging him to stay-- so she’s quiet, content to have him in her kitchen again, even if only for a moment. Her thoughts- her heart- wonders what will happen when he finishes baking. 

The oven door shuts softly, as if the little clouds of meringue would float away if he wasn't careful. He wipes his hands on the tea towel he’s tucked into the waistband of his bakery white jeans and turns to face her again. 

“You know, I first bought those for you. Mom never used them so I never thought I’d need them.”

“I still have your jacket hanging by the back door of the bakery.”

The buzzer sounds behind him, and he turns it off. Before she can ask, he resets the timer for another forty-five minutes. 

She can’t help her smile when she realizes that he’s not leaving just yet. This time, it’s her who opens a cabinet, and pulls out two glasses. Ice, then sweet tea to the brim is her contribution. just like they always did while waiting for something to finish baking, she sets the glasses on the table. “Are you hungry?”

“Hang on—” he answers and reaches for a package on the counter by the door that somehow she missed. He pauses long enough to get two forks and then he meets her at the table. “This is why I came over.”

“It smells—” she stops mid sentence when he takes the lid off. “Oh Lord, what is that?”

In the white bakery box is a swirl of amazing something. Rich dark syrup clings to the pastry, while pecans and raisins dot the surface. “That is a cinnamon bun.”

“It’s as big as my head!” she whispers. “How-- when-- Peeta! Did you start doing this?”

“I’ve had some extra time on my hands.” Her face grows warm and she wants to say something, but he breaks down the sides so it’s now lying flat. He hands her a fork. “Try some, please.”

She doesn’t have to be told twice as she sinks into her chair. 

The first bite makes her eyes roll back and she hums, unable to say anything because of the deliciousness exploding on her tongue. “You’ve been holding out on me Mellark,” teases when she can talk again. “That’s amazing.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he says with a smile as he takes his seat across from her.

They share the pastry in a comfortable silence that surprises her. After about Katniss’ fourth bite, she whispers, “I’m not taking the job.”

His fork clanging to the table makes her jump. She meets his eyes. “No, Katniss. You have to. This is what you’ve been working so hard for—”

“But If I don’t have you- then I have nothing.” She sets her fork down and even though she wants to reach for him, she hangs on to the table instead. “I was working up the nerve to come tell you.”

“Katniss—” his whisper barely leaves his lips when he’s gathering her in his arms. his lips brush her temple, and she nuzzles into his chest as he whispers against her skin, “Kitten, I want you to take the job.”

“Peeta—” she begins, her voice muffled in his t-shirt that smells like him and the cinnamon rolls he’s spent all day baking. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything—” she looks up to see him ready to reply. “Shh—let me finish.” Her arms find their way home around his neck. He lowers his head so that their foreheads are barely touching. “I know that this is the 2000's and all my friends would argue with me for saying this—but I can’t live without you. I’ll give up everything just to be with you. If you wanted to travel the world and eat bread in every country you visited, I would be fine as long as I’m with you. If you wanted me to quit teaching, and come to help you in the bakery and have a zillion babies,” she pauses because at that admission, a big grin appears on his face. “Then that would be wonderful with me.”

“Are you admitting that you want to be barefoot and pregnant and baking all day? I think I can help with that. But you know what, Kitten?” She shakes her head and he continues. “I want you to live your dreams too. If that means moving to Hickory so you can take the vice-principal job, then let's go.”

“But the bakery—”

“I think I have Dad talked into opening a Mellark’s in Hickory.”

“Really?” she meets his eyes unable to stop the grin on her own face. 

Her phone on the table behind them starts singing the song that she’s always associated with her Uncle Haymitch, Freebird. And since he’s technically her boss as the principal of the school she teaches at, she says, “I might should get that.”

Instead of letting her go, he lets her turn in his arms, and his arms sink down to her waist while he nuzzles her other ear. 

“Hey,” her voice quivers as she answers, “is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I saw the kid’s Jeep in your driveway,” he says. 

She can tell he wants to ask, so she says, “We’re just talking, old man.”

“Well, I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Come on in, then.” She hangs up her phone, and turns in his arms so she can face him again. 

“That was—”

“Weird. Weirder than normal.” 

A knock on the door makes her start to step back, but before he drops his arms, he kisses her nose. She pauses for a moment, wanting him more than to talk to her uncle. Haymitch knocks again while he says, “I know you two are in there, you just answered your phone.”

Three steps and she’s opening the door. Her uncle, the principal of her elementary school, thus her boss doesn’t wait for an invitation to come in. He steps around her, but stops in front of Peeta. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought Katniss a cinnamon bun.” Peeta answers, winking at Katniss over her uncle’s head. 

Haymitch looks at what’s left, and even pinches a bite. “That’s good, Kid. Are you going to put it on the menu at the shop?”

“Not sure yet. Still working on a possible menu for a new bakery,” Peeta says with a grin.

“Is that why you’re really here? To hurt her even more by moving?” 

“Haymitch!” Katniss squeals. “Why are you here? And I know that it’s not to ask Peeta a million questions.”

He shoots Peeta a look that Katniss has never seen before he says, “I've been promoted.”

“What do you mean you’ve been promoted? You’re the principal--” understanding dawns on her. “Wait, I thought you didn’t want to be superintendent?”

“I’m not. I’m the assistant.”

“Wow-- congratulations then,” she says. “Who is going to be the principal?” 

“Paylor.”

“She’ll be a good one. She really likes the kids.”

“And I need you to help her,” Haymitch says looking between them. “Unless you're going with the kid here to open a new bakery?”

“Wait, you want me,” Katniss pauses, a little breathless at what he’s telling her. “To be the vice principal?” 

“If you want it, that is.” He gives them another hard look. “Unless you two are going to do something crazy that is.”

“Peeta?” Katniss asks. “Is it alright if we stay in town?”

He steps closer to her, blocking Haymitch. “As long as I have you, I'm happy anywhere.” 

She grins, but before she can say anything, another set of arms surround them. “I knew you two would get back together.” Katniss and Peeta accept the weird hug, but the buzzer interrupts them. “That smells good,” Haymitch says letting them go. “What is it?”

“It's a pavlova. And it has to cool completely before we can eat it,” Peeta says. 

“That’s at least, what? A couple of hours?” she asks Peeta. She waits for his nod. “Uncle Haymitch?” Her pause is brief which doesn’t give him time to answer. “Peeta and I are going to go upstairs and have at least four hours of make up sex. I’ll bring you-- what did you call it?”

“Pavlova. It’s from New Zealand,” Peeta answers with a grin.

“I’ll bring you some pavlova tomorrow,” Katniss says with a grin of her own. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m leaving,” Haymitch grumbles as he opens the door. He mumbles something else but neither Peeta or Katniss hears him.

The door clicks behind him. Instead of reaching for each other Peeta turns the oven off, and cracks the door to start cooling the mergerine dessert. Katniss locks the back door, and their eyes meet and they both grin. 

“Dear goodness, I’ve missed you,” his whisper is hoarse as it awakens desires she was trying really hard to forget. He steps closer, but instead of touching her like she needs, his hands hover, mid-air. “Is this real? If I touch you, will you disappear?”

“I think you’re the dream. I’ve cried myself to sleep so many nights- do you know how many times I had my phone in my hand--”

“-with the number dialed?”

“Yes. and how many nights I drove by the bakery looking for your lights in your apartment above?”

“As many as drove by here looking for just a glimpse of you?”

“I won’t disappear,” she says. 

“Good. “ he pats his pants, and grins. “I have something to ask you.” He pulls something out of the front pocket but he cups it in his hand before she can see what it is. “Katniss--” he begins, “ever since high school, you’ve said that I was the one with all the words. But now, standing here with you--” he whispers as he opens his hand. Lying there on his palm, is a ring of gold with a shiny black pearl. “--I have learned during the past month of being without you, that I never want to do that again.” She didn’t realize she was staring at it until his finger tilted her chin up. “Will you marry me?”

She rises on her tiptoes, he opens his arms, and their lips meet. The first time they kissed was in the third grade, behind the slide where Mrs. Gilbert couldn’t see them. The second time was at the eighth grade dance in the gym during the last song. The third kiss was on their first date after he turned sixteen and picked her up in his dad’s old truck. 

This kiss feels like the promise of spring during a long, cold winter. It’s the promise of a new beginning, the promise of never being alone again. 

His lips are wet on her cheek as he kisses his way to her ear. The same one that he knows drives her crazy. She throws her arms around him, and groans, “Yes.”

He stops kissing her and meets her eyes. “You’ll marry me?”

“Yes, Peeta Jonathan Mellark, I will marry you.”

He steps out of her arms, and starts to grab her hand, but says, “which hand?” 

“My left,” she giggles, the worry and the bad dreams fading away. He takes her hand and slides the ring on. “Perfect fit.”

“You’re my perfect fit,” he mutters as he pulls her into his arms. “I don’t think I can wait.”

“Really? And what are you going to do about that, Mr. Mellark?”

“Well, the future Mrs. Mellark,” he pauses mid-sentence, picks her up and sets her bottom on the table. He pulls the collar of her button-up shirt down so he can get to her collar bone. Starting again, at the place on her ear, he sucks on her ear lobe, then licks down her neck. 

While he’s doing that, she’s pulling up his white t-shirt, dragging her nails along the sides of his chest, making goose pimples in her wake. He stops kissing her, so she can drag his shirt off and it lands over there on the floor. 

The twilight flashes off the black pearl, catching her eye. “Why did you pick this ring?”

“I didn’t. Remember when we went to the beach, and there was that little road-side stand? Where we could get oysters by the pound?”

“This is that pearl?” she looks at the ring again. “Whoever set it did a beautiful job. I thought we’d lost it.”

“Kitten, I said that because it was at Parker’s. Kristen set it for me.”

“I’ll have to stop by there.” she looks up at him again. “Thank you, it really means a lot that you did that.” She reaches for him. “Can we go upstairs?”

“You don’t want to do it--”

She interrupts him with a shake of her head. “I want you in my bed.” She grins and walks her fingers up his chest. “Besides, I might tie you up and never let you go.” 

“But you’ have to untie me sooner or later.”

“Why?” she asks as she starts following him up the stairs. 

“So I can bake you cinnamon buns.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll untie you for that.” She says. He starts to ease her down, then a flash of mischievous crosses his face, and he throws her on the bed instead. She bounces in the middle and he toes his shoes off before reaching for hers. 

Her flats land somewhere over there, but he’s reaching for her button on her jeans, and she returns the favor and reaches for his. Pants and underwear land on the floor with the shoes. Her flannel shirt, and her lace bra fly through the air landing where she can’t see. 

She giggles, now naked, as she lies back on the quilt she made this summer. He sits back on his heels, as naked as she is. They still, as they take each other in. 

“I missed you, Kitten,” he admits as he crawls over her, still not touching her. She lies back and he growls, “don’t move.” 

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, and an excited shiver makes her quiver. 

He’s quiet as he kisses her. Lips, then repeating the trail to her ear. He knows how to bite her lobe to make her squirm. He kisses down her sternum, and she can’t help but to pick up her foot. She rubs it against his rump. But when he bites her nipple, she arches up into his mouth. When he sucks the mark he just made into his mouth, her arms find their way around his neck. 

She weaves her fingers through his blond waves and wants to pull him closer. But he moves to her other breast instead. 

Raw desire flows through her veins, hot and consuming everything in its path. “Peeta-- I need you.” 

He returns to where they are nose to nose. His muscles ripple under her touch, and she can feel his hips start to move, and the head of his cock teasing her clit. “You need me?”

“Peeta, please,” she pleads.

“What is it Kitten?” she can feel him moving again and she can’t help the moan that escapes. 

“Please, fuck me, Peeta.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispers as he sinks his length in her. They still, getting used to one another again. His own shudder shakes the bed.

He starts to move, and she wraps her legs around him. And together they chase their pleasure. 

Kpkpkpkp

Arms tighten around her, and someone nuzzles her neck. “If this is another dream, I don’t want to wake up, but I have to pee.”

“It’s not a dream,” he murmurs in her ear. 

“Then let me go pee,” she giggles as she pulls herself out of the bed. Both of them are still as naked as the day they were born, but her bladder demands her attention. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She runs to her bathroom door, and as she’s easing it closed, she hears, “What if I have to go too?”

“Hang on--” she grunts. When she’s done, she grabs her toothbrush. Just as she’s putting the toothpaste on, the door flies open making her jump. 

“I need to do that too,” he says with a smirk then walks over to the toilet. He sits down, and she continues brushing even as she’s shaking her head at him. 

She spits, and opens the medicine cabinet. She sets an old cup on the counter before she rinses her brush. 

“You kept my toothbrush?” he whispers.

“Yeah, I did.” she says. “I know, I’m weird.” she ducks her head, not wanting to see the expression on his face. 

The toilet flushes, and she steps back into the bedroom. She grabs a t-shirt off the floor but before she can put it on, arms surround her and his hard form is against her still bareback. “You saved my old toothbrush.” 

His voice is tender in her ear as she turns around to face him. Instead of the amusement she expected, Peeta has a look of awe. “You saved it. Why?”

“I saved all your stuff,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to give up hope that somehow--”

“--someway--”

“We’d find each other again. But then again I had your toothbrush. I could be planning on taking your DNA from it and cloning you.”

“I thought that cost a lot of money.” 

“I have $300 saved up.” 

He doesn't say anything, but instead guides her arms around his neck, and he squeezes her bottom and picks her up. Their lips meet and he closes the space between them and the bed. He sits down, with her on his lap and their lips meet. Without breaking contact, he picks her up, pulls her closer, and sits her back down on his cock. 

They both moan as he slides all the way in. she starts to move, and he guides her with his hands on her hips. Her orgasim hits her first and while she is still shaking from the force of it, he rolls them over, so he’s on top. 

He hooks her knee in the crook of his arm, opening her up even more to him. About the time she can feel her pleasure building again, he speeds up and they cry out together. 

Collapsing beside her, they just lie there for several minutes, catching their breath. When he can talk, he says, “you saved my toothbrush.”

“I did. Why don’t you go fix us some breakfast?”

“As you wish…”


End file.
